


overdue

by PeppyBismilk



Series: Casphardt Kinkmeme Fills [12]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bottom Caspar von Bergliez, Library Sex, M/M, Meet-Cute, Oral Fixation, Semi-Public Sex, Top Linhardt von Hevring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyBismilk/pseuds/PeppyBismilk
Summary: Caspar didn’t know he had a librarian kink until he laid eyes on one very attractive librarian sleeping under a desk.(kinkmeme fill for librarian Linhardt/Caspar with a librarian kink)
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Series: Casphardt Kinkmeme Fills [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009218
Comments: 2
Kudos: 75
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinkmeme fill for [this prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=3149128#cmt3149128): Linhardt is a librarian or roleplays as a librarian and they fuck. Preferably in a library. Established relationship or not are both good.  
> +++++Linhardt wears glasses  
> ++They actually are prescription  
> +Caspar gets off on being shushed

Moving for work, Caspar decides, isn’t all bad. Saying goodbye to all his old friends sucked, but at least he has a nice house that he didn’t have to pay for or furnish, not to mention lots of new adventures ahead of him.

Starting with returning the previous occupant’s appallingly overdue library books. They were just gathering dust on a shelf like they belonged there. Caspar hasn’t set foot in a library in a good twelve years, but he can’t sit back and let rules be broken. Plus, his boss said he could expense the fines. 

The downtown library is old, with heavy brass and wood doors that even Caspar has to work to open. Only after he’s inside does he notice there’s an automatic door, too, but Caspar doesn’t mind a little extra work. 

It’s pretty inside, kind of like a museum. Caspar expected shelf after shelf of drab books but murals brighten the walls and stained glass windows give it an old-fashioned elegance. 

Still, Caspar’s not a big reader and he has to get to the gym, so he heads straight for the circulation desk. 

It’s empty. There’s no bell to ring, either. Caspar sets his stack of books on the desk and looks around, but he only sees other patrons. Is it an automatic library? Is there some sort of machine that replaces librarians? A robot?

A snore interrupts Caspar’s search. He follows the sound to the far corner of the desk and stands on his tiptoes to peek over the side. 

Curled up under the shelf with shoes poking out is the most gorgeous being Caspar has ever laid eyes on. Librarians can look like this? All the ones Caspar’s ever known have been stern old ladies in cat sweaters, but this librarian...

Long, flowing hair the color of trees in springtime frames the perfect face, dainty features scrunched up from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. Glasses hang around the librarian’s neck, along with a name tag that says  _ Linhardt _ and bears a picture of Linhardt looking only slightly more awake than now. No one else could possibly look so good in a sweater vest, deep green over a plain gray dress shirt. Those khakis are too tight for a library, clinging to slim legs—even those loafers are hot.

Clearly, Caspar is going to have to start supporting his local library. But first…

“Linhardt?” he tries. The name feels good on his tongue. Like he’s meant to say it. But Linhardt doesn’t stir. Caspar raps on the desk. “Um, hello?”

“Is he sleeping again?” comes a low voice. “You’re better off trying to wake the dead.”

Caspar turns to find another librarian—one who looks to have personal experience on the subject of necromancy. Hubert (by the nametag) is tall and gaunt, with dark hair that hangs menacingly over one eye, and apparently Caspar’s newfound librarian kink doesn’t extend to all librarians. 

_ WHAM! _

Hubert pounds his fist on the desk, startling Caspar and Linhardt at once. Linhardt blinks open deep blue eyes and Caspar watches in wonder as he crawls out from under the desk.

“Your break is over,” Hubert growls. “You have a customer.” 

Linhardt takes his time rising to his feet, but at full height, he’s a bit taller than Caspar. He doesn’t even attempt to cover his yawn, too busy rubbing at his eyes. Looking right past Caspar, he asks, “Where’s the customer?”

Hubert’s already gone, and Linhardt’s voice is distractingly nice.

“I’m right here,” Caspar says. Linhardt turns in his direction, but his eyes focus on something over Caspar’s shoulder. Is his vision that bad? 

“Ah.” Linhardt blinks and reaches for the glasses hanging around his neck. He puts them on and Caspar dies.

Since when is Caspar so into glasses? But these are thin and elegant, just like Linhardt, and as good as they look poised on his perfect nose, they’d look even better knocked askew in a passionate—

“I said, may I help you? I hope you didn’t disturb my nap for nothing.” 

“Sorry!” Caspar grabs for his books, dropping two in the process.

Linhardt puts a finger to his lips. “Shh!”

Oh no.  _ Oh no.  _ That hiss sends a shiver down Caspar’s spine, and not the creepy kind like when Hubert looked at him. This shiver is definitely the  _ stick your fingers in my mouth and keep me quiet _ kind. 

“Sorry,” Caspar repeats, quieter. “I have some books to return.”

Linhardt narrows his eyes. “Why didn’t you use the book drop?” 

“They’re overdue. Like, really overdue.”

Stern and steely, Linhardt fixes Caspar with a glare that does things to him. Linhardt takes the books and sighs. “Let’s see what the damage is.”

Much as Caspar likes the idea of Linhardt scolding him, maybe bending him over his knee and spanking him, he also wants desperately to please him. “It’s not my fault! I just moved here and they came with my house.” 

One of Linhardt’s narrow brows goes up as he starts scanning the barcodes on the books. “I haven’t heard that one before. You know I don’t actually care that they’re late, right? I’m just glad you brought them back.”

“But they really aren’t mine—I don’t even have a library card!” By the looks of Linhardt’s scowl, this was the wrong thing to say. Caspar starts to sweat under his collar. “Because I just moved here, like I said!” 

“So you are not”—Linhardt checks the computer monitor—“Bernadetta von Varley?” 

“Nope! She’s a coworker, and she switched to a remote position in another city. I’m Caspar von Bergliez!” Another stern glance sparks a little heat in Caspar’s belly, and he realizes he’s been too loud again. “Sorry! So my company’s going to pay her fines.” 

Linhardt barely acknowledges him as he finishes scanning the pile. “Very well. The total comes to six dollars and fifty cents.”

“That’s it?” Caspar isn’t sure why he was hoping for more. Maybe to set some sort of record so Linhardt would remember him. “But they’re so overdue they’re dusty.”

“We’re publicly funded,” Linhardt says. “You don’t really think we make money off of fines, do you?”

Caspar frowns. “Well, I did.”

Linhardt shakes his head. “Actually, the board is finally thinking of doing away with fines, seeing as they tend to punish the more vulnerable people in the community. It’s about time if you ask me.”

Caspar could ask Linhardt anything. Just listening to him talk is something out of a dream. He pays the fee, but his stomach turns when Linhardt hands him a receipt. Caspar has to keep this conversation going. 

“Aren’t you going to ask if there’s anything else you can do for me?”  _ Like give me your number? _

“I wasn’t,” says Linhardt blithely. “But since you insist…”

“I want a library card!”

“Very well.” Despite how annoyed Linhardt was at Caspar not having one, he’s even more annoyed to sign Caspar up for one, handing over the form like it’s physically painful to do his job. Even weirder, it is working on Caspar. Every little scoff sets his nerves aflame, and when he finally clutches his library card to his heart, it may as well be a favor from Linhardt, like a handkerchief in an old timey movie. 

“Thank you!” Caspar forgets to be quiet again, maybe on purpose just so he can get another reminder. “Sorry. I don’t suppose you can show me some books on, uh…” Caspar gropes for a topic. Anything. “Relationships?”

Gah, too obvious! At least he didn’t say sex.

“I can’t.” 

Caspar blanks at Linhardt’s blunt reply. “But isn’t that like, your job?” 

“No. I’m working circulation today, and there’s a line. Hubert can help you find a book. Goodbye.”

And just like that, Caspar’s been snubbed, and all he has to show for it is a library card that Linhardt’s pretty fingers touched. Caspar pockets it with a sigh. 

Well, he doesn’t need Hubert to find books. Caspar grabs some at random, just so he’ll have an excuse to come back, and he checks them out on one of the automated machines because Linhardt’s still helping other customers.

Shoulders sagging, he heads for the door. Some time at the gym is just the pick-me-up he needs, and he chucks the books into his backseat. The next time he sees Linhardt, he’s going to be ready, starting with extra bicep curls…and a much tighter shirt. Definitely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thirst established! They fuck in the next chapter. 
> 
> Fun fact: I was thinking about See You Again by Miley Cyrus the entire time I was writing this. 
> 
> In case anyone was curious, here’s my [mini moodboard for librarian Linhardt looks](https://imgur.com/a/eYd8Slm)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar returns his books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please turn on your porn logic receptors now

Caspar is done fucking around. 

This time, he’s laying it all out on the table, or the circulation desk, as it were. If Linhardt doesn’t want it, that’s fine, but Caspar can’t get what he doesn’t ask for.

And he’s been thinking about Linhardt for days. 

His normal “get pumped” music doesn’t work at the gym, but thinking about Linhardt egging him on powers him through extra reps.  _ You call those quads?  _ taunts the yawning Linhardt in his head.  _ Come back when you can crush a cantaloupe. _

He hasn’t touched his library books, but he has touched his cock. Like, a lot. Way more than usual. He can barely keep it in check during his workouts, which means he has to jerk off the moment he gets home, to thoughts of Linhardt wearing nothing but a tweed blazer with elbow patches. 

But enough is enough. Caspar is a man of action, and so, in his tightest tank top and tiniest running shorts, he scoops the books out of his backseat and heads for the heavy library doors.

Once inside, it occurs to him that it would really suck if Linhardt was off today. 

By some miracle, he’s working and he’s awake. He’s at the help desk today, which suits him even less than circulation, but he’s alone.

Good. Caspar desperately needs his help, and seeing as Linhardt’s examining his fingernails, he can’t be very busy. He’s wearing a subtle floral shirt with a necktie, and all Caspar’s blood rushes south. 

Caspar strides up to him, drops his books on the desk, and asks the first question he can think of. “Where’s the book return?”

Not a great opener. Maybe that’s why Linhardt takes his time picking at his pinkie nail before looking up. “Is that a real question?” 

“Y-yeah!” That glare pops Caspar’s confidence like a pin, but Linhardt’s eyes flick down and back up his body. Oh yeah, Caspar can work with that. 

Linhardt doesn’t linger on his muscles for as long as Caspar would like, turning instead to his books. “And how did you like _A Pound a Day Keeps the Butt OK_?”

“I’m sorry?” Caspar looks down and—holy shit, he really did check out erotica, along with a guide to raised garden beds and a parenting book. He hadn’t even noticed until now.

“Personally,” Linhardt continues, “it’s one of the few things I’d rather do than read about, but I appreciate your eclectic taste.”

Caspar blinks. Did he get water in his ears in the shower this morning? “What?” 

Linhardt just hums as if he’d only said something about raised garden beds, but Caspar heart what he heard. It’s just hard to do anything about it because his grand plan fell out of his head the moment Linhardt said _butt_ and now he’s lost the ability to talk. Linhardt smiles at him and stands up. “Let me show where the book drop is.” 

They’re halfway across the library before Caspar realizes they left the books at the desk. Linhardt’s hips are mesmerizing. They’re just so narrow, or maybe it’s the way those tight black jeans compress his butt into the perfect shape. 

Linhardt takes a key from the chain at his hip and opens a door marked  _ Silent Study Room. _

Caspar’s ass-addled brain churns to a halt. “This isn’t the book drop.”

“Good eye,” says Linhardt. He pushes the door open, and even in his frazzled state Caspar knows to follow. 

A red and white exit provides the room’s only light. The door clicks shut and Linhardt turns to face Caspar, eyes burning bright.

“I think I know why you came back,” says Linhardt, pulling off his tie. It’s a clip-on, and fuck, that turns Caspar on even more. “You didn’t read those books, did you?”

“I can read.” 

Why can’t Caspar say anything normal? He came here and ask Linhardt out, but all he’s done so far is put his foot in his mouth. 

Linhardt doesn’t seem to mind. “I don’t doubt it, Caspar von Bergliez.” 

Caspar’s mouth drops open. He remembered? Maybe people who wear glasses really are smarter. They’re hotter, that’s for sure, and Linhardt toys with his frames as if he can read Caspar’s mind. 

“I’ve been thinking about you since the last time you came in, and now you show up practically naked?” Linhardt takes a step closer and extends one hand, hovering just over one of Caspar’s pecs. He doesn’t touch, but Caspar wishes he would. “Tell me, is it a coincidence, or did you come here to seduce me?” 

Linhardt’s the one doing all the seduction, and it’s working so well Caspar’s brain can’t keep up. There’s only one thing he can do: stop thinking entirely.

He takes Linhardt’s hand and presses it to his chest. “I like you.”

Linhardt stares at him with wild, thirsty eyes. He squeezes Caspar’s pec through his shirt, rough enough to drag the fabric over one hard nipple. Caspar couldn’t stop himself from gasping even if he tried—he’s sensitive there and he doesn’t mind Linhardt knowing.

“I like you, too.” Linhardt smiles. “May I show you how much?”

No one has ever asked Caspar so nicely, and his half-hard dick surges to full attention. “Hell yeah you can!” 

Still gripping Caspar’s chest, Linhardt leans in. Is this it? Their first kiss? Caspar closes his eyes like he’s back in high school.

“Shhh…” Linhardt’s breath hits his ear like something out of his fantasies. “This is a library.”

If he keeps that up, Caspar’s going to come in his pants, so he shuts them both up the only way he cab.

He grabs Linhardt and kisses him right on his pretty mouth. Linhardt moans into it, soft, just like Caspar hoped he’d sound. His lips are soft, too. Small. Caspar has to be careful not to suck them right into his mouth, because that’s not good kissing. 

Good kisses require thought, though, and it’s hard for Caspar to do that while Linhardt is rubbing his chest, pulling and twisting the thin fabric of his shirt. Caspar breaks the kiss—it sounds wetter than he expects—to grope for the hem. “Off, off.”

Linhardt helps him get it over his head, and then he just stares. Dumbfounded. It’s nice, Caspar thinks, not being the only horny dumbass in the room, and he flexes a little, just to see if Linhardt will react.

Linhardt pounces, and suddenly he’s the one trying to devour Caspar’s lips. His hands are everywhere, long fingers tracing their way up Caspar’s back and down his ribs, dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. Caspar works his hands between them to unbutton Linhardt’s shirt, and then it’s open and he’s so smooth and, well,  _ frail  _ isn’t the right word, but he’s got no muscle at all. Caspar isn’t sure what he expected—books aren’t that heavy. But even that’s too much. Linhardt shouldn’t have to carry anything. Hell, he shouldn’t even have to walk. Caspar will carry him everywhere so he never has to lift a finger, never has to devote any of his precious energy to doing anything but this.

Linhardt shrugs out of his shirt without breaking the kiss, and then his hands are back on Caspar, kneading his ass through his shorts with surprising force. Caspar pulls him closer—his badge lanyard feels huge between them, but it stays on—and plunges one hand into that long, flowing hair. It’s as silky as it looks, and Caspar gives it a tug. Today, he’s gentle, but Caspar files that gasp away for later, for the fifth or sixth time, when he’s sitting on Linhardt’s cock and pulling his hair for real. 

He works his other hand into Linhardt’s jeans, or at least he tries to. They’re stupid tight, or maybe Caspar’s hands are too big and useless, but Linhardt pauses his exploration of Caspar’s ass to undo the fly and push them down over his hips. Hips Caspar’s hands can easily cover. But what really short circuits his brain is Linhardt’s cock, hard and hot and just brushing his own through his shorts. Those really need to come off.

Linhardt reads his mind again and shoves them to his knees, and when flesh meets flesh it shoots through Caspar like an electric shock. He jerks back and Linhardt’s eyes search his as if to ask if this is still okay. His glasses sit crooked on his nose and it never stopped being okay but it’s even more okay now. Caspar surges forward to claim his lips again, to lick them, to press beyond. For such small lips, he has a big mouth, and Caspar tries not to let the possibilities derail him. 

Linhardt grabs both of their cocks and jerks them together until Caspar gets dizzy and has to fumble for support. Linhardt steers them toward table and pushes Caspar flat on his back. He isn’t rough (maybe he’s saving that for another time) but there’s no question who’s in charge. With his shorts around his knees and Linhardt fully naked and on top of him, Caspar’s perfectly confined. Linhardt pins just wrists to the table and Caspar doesn’t even realize he’s moaning until Linhardt covers his mouth.

“Didn’t you see the sign? This is a silent study room.”

“Then you better find a way to keep me quiet,” Caspar says against his palm. “That’s your job, right?”

It’s not, but Linhardt just hums and slips two fingers into Caspar’s open mouth, because somehow, he always knows what Caspar wants. Caspar sucks them in automatically. He could get used to this view: pleasure softens Linhardt’s face, almost like when he’s asleep except he can’t stop shifting and rubbing and writhing in Caspar’s lap. The curve of his cock is gorgeous, and fuck, he’s leaking on Caspar’s stomach. They both are. 

But Linhardt said something about pounding butts, and despite being completely unprepared, Caspar wants it. He can take a cock, and Linhardt isn’t huge. It’ll be great. Caspar groans around his fingers and Linhardt shoves them in deeper.

“Shh…”

Caspar’s cock jerks as those fingers work in and out until he’s drooling around them. Looking satisfied, Linhardt pulls them out and slides down Caspar’s legs. His fingers shine even in the dim light and he pushes one of Caspar’s legs up with his other hand. 

“I want it, god, do I want it, but—” That last little bit of logic in Caspar’s head yields when Linhardt produces a condom from the fucking ether. “Whoa, what kind of slutty librarian are you?” 

Linhardt tries to frown, but it’s obvious he’s pleased. Still, he hops off the table, looking down over the glasses he can’t see without. “Just for that, you don’t get to look at me.”

“What?” Caspar pouts, but when Linhardt draws a loop in the air with his fingers, Caspar rolls over like a trained animal. He’s at the edge of the table now, chest pressed against the hard surface and cock bobbing, free and desperate for relief. 

“Good,” says Linhardt, and his praise is twenty times hotter than his scorn. “Let’s hope you stay that way.”

The hope for more praise is the only thing that keeps him quiet as Linhardt pushes a spit-soaked finger into his ass. Caspar bites down hard on his lip, cock throbbing at the burn. It’s everything he needs, and when Linhardt curves that perfect finger to stroke his inner walls, Caspar can’t hold back. 

“Ahh—Lin!” 

They definitely aren’t at the nickname stage yet, and Caspar’s not sure if it’s that or the yell that earns him a slap on the ass, but he likes it more than he should. Linhardt doesn’t stop; he moves his finger, adds another, and Caspar feels invincibile, like he could take Linhardt dry. 

But Linhardt is a responsible slutty librarian. He withdraws his fingers and Caspar clings to the table and focuses on sounds to resist touching himself: the crinkle of a wrapper, the click of a cap, a soft moan, and the barely audible slide of slick fingers on a stiff cock.

Caspar screws his eyes shut. Precome runs down his dick and he feels Linhardt tugging his underwear back up his legs to cover him in front, leaving his ass exposed. Just that pressure bring Caspar closer to the edge, and so does Linhardt’s voice: “Can’t have you making a mess of my library.”

Yes, it’s definitely worth going home with soaked briefs. 

“Please, Linhardt,” Caspar whispers, twisting his hips back and forth to try to get a little friction. “Want you inside me…”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” The waver in Linhardt’s voice is going to color Caspar’s dreams for weeks. 

Linhardt spreads Caspar’s legs wider and then the cool, slick tip of his cock meets Caspar’s hot rim. Caspar bites his tongue like a good boy and slowly, Linhardt pushes in.

He feels big, and Caspar feels tight in the best way. It’s a good thing Linhardt isn’t bigger because this is all his ass can take, but Caspar never backs down. Linhardt pauses to whisper, “All right?” and Caspar wishes he could see the tenderness he hears, but he can’t turn his neck that far, so he just nods. 

That gets him a little more cock, a squeeze of his hips, a harsh breath from behind. He fits easier now. Almost like their bodies know each other. 

A whispered “more” urges Linhardt all the way in, and Caspar must have done something good in a past life to feel this full. He grinds back on Linhardt, into those bony little hips. How much power do they hold? Caspar likes it rough, but Linhardt could tickle him with a feather and he’d probably come harder than he had in his entire life.

Linhardt takes a deep, steadying breath, like he’s affected, too, and then, gripping Caspar’s hips, he starts to move. Caspar grabs the table for dear life. 

What Linhardt lacks in strength he makes up for with purpose, each stroke deliberate until he finds the right angle. They both know when he hits it, because Caspar shouts, his knees give out, and he slams into the table. Fuck, no one’s ever found his prostate so fast. He doesn’t even get a chance to recover before Linhardt curls around him and shoves more fingers in his mouth. Caspar hopes they aren’t the ones that were in his ass but all that matters is they don’t taste bad and Linhardt groans when he bites down on them. 

Those purposeful thrusts get faster, harder, like maybe pushing book carts around takes more effort than Caspar thought. It’s too much—his trapped cock, the table beneath his chest and slick with sweat, that stupid ID badge rubbing against his back, and Linhardt’s cock ramming him over and over again. He’s not going to last, but from the raspy moans behind him and the throbbing cock in his ass, neither is Linhardt. 

Linhardt calls his name then, and triumph almost does Caspar in. He’s broken a librarian, and not even fingers in his mouth can keep him quiet now. The whole building can probably hear them moaning, and Linhardt must like that, too, because his hips lose their rhythm and his fingers slip out to grab Caspar’s shoulder instead. 

“ _ Harder! _ ” Caspar’s so close, and Linhardt slams his ass like the desperate librarian he is, because that’s what this dirty book would be called. “Yeah, yeah—just like that, _fuck_ —”

And it’s Linhardt who comes first, pushing in as deep as he can and panting Caspar’s name as he spills into him. Someday he will, bare, with Caspar pulling his hair and scratching his back, but today it’s Caspar gripping the table and gasping for breath until Linhardt says, “Touch yourself.”

It only takes one pull and he’s coming harder and longer than he can ever remember—not that he can remember much beyond  _ Linhardt _ and  _ library _ right now. His briefs are soaked, his ass is full, and he’s never, ever going to take the library for granted again. 

Linhardt slides out and, to Caspar’s utter delight, molds himself to Caspar’s broad back. It takes a full silent minute for Caspar to realize this is not a good thing.

“Are you sleeping on me?”

“Just a power nap,” Linhardt murmurs. 

Caspar tries to shimmy him loose, but his pecs are stuck to the table. “Aren’t you on the clock?”

“We just fucked and you’re worried about a nap? It’s a slow day, no one will miss me.”

But Caspar doesn’t want to sleep. Sex invigorates him, and he’s dying to ask Linhardt for his number or his hand in marriage or maybe drinks after work. Taking matters literally into his own hands, he grabs Linhardt from underneath his ass and stands up. Linhardt’s little gasp stokes his pride, and Caspar spins around to deposit him on the table.

“I appreciate your strength, I assure you, but I do not have round two in me right now,” Linhardt says through a yawn. 

Caspar clings to the hope of  _ right now  _ and peels the condom off. He ties it and pitches it, then finds a few paper towels to clean Linhardt up. He wipes the table down too, with some cleaning spray he finds by the door, feeling Linhardt’s eyes on him the whole time. Almost like the whole thing was planned. 

“Your ass is still hanging out.” Linhardt’s voice brims with affection, and when Caspar turns back to him, he looks positively infatuated. 

“Go out with me.” It isn’t really a question, even though Linhardt is free to say no. 

He doesn’t, and it’s just the sort of storybook ending Caspar was hoping for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my favorite part of this is Linhardt trying to take a nap on Caspar’s back. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
